


Putting Us Back Together

by shadowstake_us82



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowstake_us82/pseuds/shadowstake_us82
Summary: Takes place a year on from the disastrous Abrahamian case. DC Emerson Kent finds himself in pain and in the Incident Room alone late into the evening. Or maybe he's not so alone after all ...





	Putting Us Back Together

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, I just put them in scenarios I wish us viewers could have had a chance to enjoy but were robbed of.

Emerson Kent winced as he tried to move to his chair, leaning on his desk, trying to will himself just two … three … four steps closer. The burning pain shooting from his right buttock to jolt up his side, agonising and merciless. He swallowed down a sob and took a breath, fingernails scratching at the wood veneer as his right leg shook uncontrollably. This entire day had been an absolute bitch...

‘Kent?’

Emerson froze; he didn’t even dare breathe.

'Kent?’ The voice, so soft and familiar - beloved - gently inquired again.

Kent couldn’t reply. He had always hoped his boss would never catch him in his more vulnerable moments, so close to racking tears of agony.

 _Can’t catch a fucking break,_ he thought bitterly.

'What can I do?’

Kent heard the desperate need in his DI’s voice and tried to breathe normally again, releasing shakily.

He huffed out a forced laugh and looked over his shoulder.

'Just need a minute, Sir.’ Kent gestured with his right hand quickly so as not to lose his balance, 'if you could just help me to my chair …"

Detective Inspector Chandler nodded and felt relieved he could be of use. 'Of course’, he replied just as softly, striding to his detective constable’s side and sliding his left arm around his waist, gently but firmly keeping a grip on him.

Kent swallowed again and allowed himself to be escorted, noting how delicately his boss was guiding him, and feeling protected in a way he hadn’t for longer than he could remember. His eyes welled up at the thought, a traitorous tear escaping down his cheek and he knew his DI had seen it.

'Here’, Chandler murmured. His right arm reached across Kent’s body as if keeping him barricaded from harm, pressing him closer to his own side as his right thumb trapped the tear in its wake, and softer than a whisper, brushed it from his skin, its residue now on the pad of his thumb.

Joseph Chandler’s topaz eyes stayed locked on his. He could see the physical pain reflected back at him, but he could also see something else, something even more crippling; the kind of hurt and devastation that attacked the soul without empathy, leaving barely anything left but ragged pieces behind. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen such loss in someone’s eyes, even with all the grieving families he had to speak to.

Kent looked lost. As if a deep part of him was utterly broken. The thought suddenly caused a surprising blockage in Chandler’s throat. The longer he looked inside Emerson the more his skin began to tingle, the sensation tripping in his bones, dancing on his skin, and causing sensations he had not believed he could even be capable of feeling for anyone. It made him want to hold his colleague to him, stroke his hair back and whisper everything would be all right, that he had him. Dammit, he wanted to kiss him.

'Sir?’

Kent felt breathless. Chandler had never looked at him like that before. His boss’s eyes bore into his with such an intensity Kent thought the world had crashed to a stop. Before he could even say anything else, Chandler had both arms around him tighter in an embrace and brought him flush against him, he lifted his chin with his right hand and parted his lips against Kent’s in the sweetest kiss. Suddenly Kent’s mind went wonderfully blank and he pressed into Chandler’s soft touch.

'Em, why didn’t you tell me?’ Chandler murmured against him, unwilling to move away and break contact from Kent’s now very attentive lips.

“Hmm?’ Kent was confused for a moment, distracted by Chandler endearingly abbreviating his first name for the first time, and far too interested in receiving another kiss from the man he had been in love with for five years over answering banal questions.

'Your leg. Your injuries. They still trouble you. Why did you never tell me?’ Chandler moved away now, frowning, trying to stare Kent down into getting a suitable response.

Kent shrugged and gently squeezed Chandler’s arms which were still wrapped around him.

'It’s on and off. It’s worse in the mornings first thing and when I’ve been on my feet all day.’ Kent gestured to the incident room doors. 'The stairs …’ he trailed off with another shrug.

A horrible thought struck Chandler.

'Emerson, you’re still driving that godforsaken Vespa of yours!’

Kent gave a mock gasp. 'Don’t talk about Carly like that! She’s been with me longer than most boyfriends.’ Kent tilted his head in thought, 'in fact, she’s been with me longer than all boyfriends, and she rarely ever breaks down - unlike them.’ Kent gave a satisfied smile.

Chandler wasn’t buying.

'That’s not the point - ’

'And I’m always guaranteed a decent ride with her, which is far more than I ever got from th- ’

’Kent!’ Chandler interrupted, exasperated, his fingers flying to his temples and tightly closing his eyes.

Kent tried not to giggle. 'Sorry, Sir.’

Chandler nodded and took a breath, his arms going back around Emerson.

'That’s better.’ His smile was genuinely back again, a brief one which Kent would only ever catch glimpses of from time to time and deemed precious. 'You can’t be riding that thing any more, not like this. Not when you’re suffering like this.’

'Oh’, Kent smirked, his arms finding their way around Chandler, trapping him against his body. 'Are those your orders, Sir?’ He grinned wickedly.

Chandler raised an eyebrow. 'How’s the pain?’ He asked pointedly.

'What pain?’ Emerson replied, that mischievous grin of his sliding halfway across his lips in a way that always secretly transfixed Chandler.

Before Chandler's eyes, he could see the old sparkle shimmer back into Kent’s. Something in Joe’s chest, something brittle and beautiful, seemed to shift.

'There’s no pain now, Sir. Not any more.’ Kent said softly, his eyes fixed on Chandler meaningfully.

Chandler leaned down and brushed his lips over Emerson again.

'Come on, you’re coming home with me.’

Emerson grinned, looking lovingly from Joe’s mouth to his eyes.

'You need a home-cooked meal.’ Chandler let Emerson go and smiled back over his shoulder. 'I’ll get our coats. It’s raining.’

Emerson wrinkled his nose. 'Oh joy’, he replied with a yawn. 'More weather to drown in.’

'Here’, Chandler helped Emerson into his coat and buttoned him up. Kent followed the trail of his working fingers and when their eyes met again, shot a glance laden with innuendo. 'Behave.’ Chandler stated, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek.

'Where’s the fun in that?’

Chandler was tempted to give Emerson a playful slap to his behind - until he remembered he best not if he wanted his DC to remain pain-free and in good spirits for the rest of the night. Instead, he just grinned and gave a short laugh, throwing an arm around Kent’s shoulders as they left the police station.

My DC … Well, I can’t very well keep referring to him like that now …Chandler smiled to himself, not quite believing what tonight had culminated in. Does this mean I have a boyfriend?? That I’m actually in a relationship???

Chandler looked at Kent as the other man smiled up at him, all wet black curls dripping into his eyes and flushed cheeks, and he thought yes. Yes. He waited for the inevitable panic to set in which always did at realisations of expected intimacy, emotional and/or physical … but it never came. Chandler swallowed down the magnitude of the moment. He felt a freedom he had never thought possible.

He used the remote on his keyring to unlock the doors and Emerson slid on to the passenger seat with relative ease. Joe scanned the car park and saw the hated Vespa. He idly wondered if he were to accidentally reverse into it, blame it on his blind spot, and smothered Emerson in kisses would he be forgiven for Carly’s unexpected and oh-so-tragic demise?

Or maybe he could just buy his man a very expensive present to make up for it. Preferably one with four doors, four wheels, and a roof.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in summer of this year as well as others and will be knocking the others out on here as soon as possible. Most of them are just one-shots right now, though I do hope to put my back into an actual multi-chapter fic at some point. Thank you so much for reading, and if you feel like leaving any kind of feedback I am always wildly excited to receive it and will reply to you as soon as it reaches me. Thanks again. xoxo


End file.
